


Mind the Gap

by parallelmonsoon



Series: Eldritch Rooms [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Existential Crisis, Experimental Style, Forgot to bring a map, Gen, Trespassing inside your own head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:21:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24651499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parallelmonsoon/pseuds/parallelmonsoon
Summary: Thomas has visited all of the other sides' rooms by now.  All except Janus'.   And if Janus won't show him, he'll sneak a peek himself.That was a mistake.(Or Thomas falls inside himself and needs a little help getting out.)
Series: Eldritch Rooms [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1889764
Comments: 21
Kudos: 140





	Mind the Gap

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this one is *real* experimental. Or real weird, if I'm being honest. Unrelated to any of my other works. Note that the descriptions of the sides' rooms aren't about how they look but about how they *feel*

Thomas focuses on lies.

He thinks of one he told just yesterday. “I love it!” because he could see his friend did. Their grin, their bounce, the way their eyes kept drifting to the mirror.

He thinks of how it **feels** to lie. That little snag after the question. The _should I/shouldn't I_ calculation. The snag and then the lurch. The answer given a bit too quickly, a bit too loudly. His sudden hyper-awareness of his smile (too wide? not wide enough?) and the position of his arms, as if the bend of his elbow might give the game away.

He thinks of bigger lies. Lies told to protect himself, to protect others. The bigger the lie the bigger the snag. The worry and the guilt and the hope that he'd pull it off and the hope that he **wouldn't**. Because then the worst would already be over, wouldn't be hanging over his head and tangling taunt in his belly. The bigger the lie the bigger the lurch. Smiling and smiling even as his classmates threw slurs and inside that smile was a scream but he **couldn't-**

Thomas thinks of Janus. Sassy defined. Cunning and clever and just as much a dork as the rest of the them. Quick with his wit and dumb with his metaphors. A snake and a villain and a helper and a friend, maybe, if Thomas has his way. 

Thomas closes his eyes and sinks out. 

He knows there's a risk to this. He's been to all of the other sides' rooms by now, and each has its dangers. 

Patton's room. Where everything is soft and sweet and  **sticky** , holding fast so that you don't even notice you're drowning. Pulling you under, where it's cozy and stagnant and wonderfully, terribly quiet. 

Virgil's, with its shadows and its clock rushing on. A reminder that this too will end, because everything ends and you are ending, now, in this space between heartbeats that is slow and fast and spiraling-

Logan's, with its too bright light that hides nothing. Everything laid bare, every wasted moment stark and bold and whispering its _should haves_ and _if_ _onlys_. Every choice and its cascade, and somewhere in the distance dominoes are falling. 

Remus and Roman's. Where everything **flows**. One thing becomes another that gives birth to a third, and the thing you thought you knew twists and remakes itself anew. The horizon a smear, a riotous rainbow that stretches and curves and is never, ever still.

Thomas knows there is a risk. He thinks he is prepared. 

He's in his living room when he sinks down. He rises up into the same room, and has time enough to be disappointed. 

He's facing the television. Just a television...until it flickers. A television (a book) (a radio) (a tablet) that (entertains) (numbs) (connects) (isolates). Just a television (a book) (a radio) (a tablet) (a trap). 

Thomas turns. Sick and reeling and unsure, and now it's the kitchen. It's the microwave (a stove) (a refrigerator) where he (follows directions) (does the minimum) to (nourish) (gorge) (starve) himself (alone). 

Turns, and it's the stairs (a hill) (a bridge) that he uses to (ascend) (descend) (rise up) (sink down). The stairs (a threshold) where (Virgil) (anxiety) (fear) (a fragment) (Thomas) stands (reflects) (was never there at all.) 

Everything he looks at, flickers. Everything is (less than) (more than) itself (a symbol.) Everything is a metaphor (a metaphor) (a metaphor) (a truth.) 

It's too big. Too much to hold, and Thomas closes his eyes (has no eyes) (isn't here) (is sitting alone in a room) and focuses on himself (who?) Tries to sink out to (never left) the real world. 

The rollercoaster swoop of rising makes his already uneasy gut churn. Thomas belches and swallows hard against the bile stinging at his throat. A mistake, and one he intends to hide. Janus had warned him. A 'no' stated plainly, and Thomas has no one to blame but himself-

Thomas opens his eyes. 

He sees the whole of it, now. The room itself flickers. He stands inside (outside) of (a prison) (a sanctuary). The door (is barred) (is padlocked) (is a gate) and the key (is in the lock) (Thomas  **is** the key.) All around him are people (monsters) (shadows) (a family). He's surrounded (by himself) and all of them are turning. Turning to stare, and Thomas is terrified (they are terrified) because he shouldn't be here (can't be anywhere else.) The room is a (prison) (a sanctuary) (his head)-

(-his head his mind his mind he's inside his mind-)

(-inside outside and he is the center that watches itself-) 

“Thomas!” 

(who?)

(who?) 

(me)

(I)

(-I inside I and that isn't anyone-) 

Something  **pulls** . Thomas rises (sinks) so quickly that it feels more like being tackled (punched) (hugged.) He falls to his knees with force enough to bruise and spews out his dinner across the living room rug (just a rug, in need of a good steam cleaning). 

When the worst of it is over Thomas clambers to his feet. Janus lets him stumble, crossing his arms instead of offering his hand. 

“Do you have any idea-” Everything is hissed, and it's all there on Janus' face. No sarcasm, no deflection, just fury and fear and relief. “What part of my job did you not understand? The distance is **necessary**.” There are a dozen extra s's to the word. “You almost-” 

He breaks off, turning away to run a hand over his face. His shoulders are shaking. 

Already the memory of the room (the gap) is fading, and Thomas is so very grateful for it. 

“I'm sorry,” he says. And “thank you,” because even if he can't remember the stupid thing he did that flustered Janus so badly, he's sure of one thing. Somehow Thomas had gotten himself lost (had found himself), and Janus had been the one to bring him back. 

Janus gathers himself and looks Thomas in the eye. “Next time I tell you no, I need you to trust me.” He holds up a hand as if to ward off a protest Thomas hadn't planned on making. “Not about anything else. If the answer is no-just no- I need you to believe there's a good reason for it.” 

“I will.” 

No hesitation, and Janus looks a bit taken aback by it. A little suspicious, maybe, but Thomas is entirely sincere. Once the idea of trusting Janus would have made him scoff and chuckle. For some strange reason now the only thing it makes him feel is  **safe** . 

They shake hands to seal the deal. When Janus looks like he's about to say his goodbyes Thomas grips a little tighter. 

“Really, thank you,” he said, though he hasn't the slightest idea why, “You...Janus, you're...” 

(Deceit) 

(self-preservation) 

(a liar)

(truth keeper)

(barrier)

(warden)

(protector)

(the key)

(myself)

“My friend,” Thomas finishes. 


End file.
